


Line In The Sand

by writing_regen



Series: Write Love Letters In The Smoke [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Gen, How the hell do I tag this, I have no idea, Roleswap, based entirely around the first line of dialogue, i dont know but its a concept i promise, its the reverse!verse baby, she is angery, what do i TAG on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_regen/pseuds/writing_regen
Summary: “I wish you were him. So much. Almost every day,”“I get it. I wish I was too! You think I’d wanted to be like… this again?” She gestured to herself and scoffed, “No! I didn’t even want to regenerate! I was happy!"
Relationships: The Doctor & The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Series: Write Love Letters In The Smoke [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715749
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Line In The Sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raincallsx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raincallsx/gifts).



> i have no excuse this au OWNS me because I am lesbian and Whittaker!master is pretty laedy

“I wish you were him. So much. Almost every day,”

The Master knew immediately who he was talking about. Of course. She couldn’t blame him really. Of course the Doctor would miss the version of her that was open and hurting and so accepting of this thing between them. So comfortable with it in a way she could never be, barely able to settle back into herself much less a version of her so intimately intertwined with someone else. 

He turned to walk off and she couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let the conversation end with those words hanging over their heads and nothing else. It had been a cruel thing to say, but that was alright. This was the atmosphere she was more comfortable in anyway - the one full of tension and uncertainty and high strung emotions. This was one she knew how to twist and manipulate back into her court.

Snaking out one hand she grabbed onto his wrist, grip firm, mental barriers high so the psychic kickback of contact in such a heavy situation didn’t waver her resolve. She wouldn’t let it anywhere near the fire that had flared up at the words because if she let that go out all that was left was the weight of everything pressing down right outside the reinforced walls and it was enough that if she let it go out she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength or will to let anything spark again. 

She morphed her features into something like shock, fluttering her eyelashes, “Really? I would have never guessed that myself!” The expression dropped, the heat of a raging inferno met the cold of ice, because she had had an incredibly long day and this was just another fucking tick on the list of shitty things to happen, wasn’t it, “You think I don’t know it? You think I can’t tell?” 

She dropped his wrist. He wouldn’t walk off now. He’d always stop to listen to her, like something in her words would be the tipoff he’d need to figure out just what went wrong. 

Well, “I get it. I wish I was too! You think I’d wanted to be like… this again?” She gestured to herself and scoffed, “No! I didn’t even want to regenerate! I was happy! It hurt… so much to be him,” She curled her hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into her palms.

Around them, the wind whistled around the corners of the dimly lit mausoleum and whipped through her hair. Twin moons cast long shadows over their features where they stood at the steps, and the stars seemed so far away, a once beautiful tapestry faded by the cruel hands of time and the fight against lights that burned so much brighter.

“It hurt. Because he felt everything. But he… felt it! And for the first time since you left me alone to rot on Gallifrey I had that chance. To maybe get better. To maybe be happy and maybe feel like for once in the long list of fuck-ups that make up the path where I am now, it could maybe, just for a while be okay,” 

His eyes were wide and she could see the guilt starting to sink in. Good. This was the dynamic she was used to. All the sharp edges puffed up so that if anyone stood too close they caught themselves and the realization that the moral high ground he fought to uphold was a castle made of sand, and the tide was coming in.

She could see even deeper too. To the darker parts. The remnants of four. repetitive. beats. An age old anger that burned just like hers but was stifled and muffled and kept under lock and key. But she knew. She knew it was there. Every time they met like this, standing over a line in the sand. Oh she had fire biting at her heels but he carried shadows and inky and dark as the void between the stars that had scared even the bravest of Time Lords when they were children. She may have been the monster under the bed but he was the boogeyman. 

The Destroyer of Worlds.

“I-”

“You put so much ‘good’ into the Universe hoping it’ll mean something. But you don’t get it. You never have. The Universe is just a vessel! It doesn’t give a shit. It never will. So,” She crossed her legs, spinning in a neat little circle, throwing her arms out to the side, “despite all the shit we went through I ended up like this! Ta da!" She hummed, continuing, "Here, think of it like this. As one of your precious humans put it: the chaos of a closed system never decreases, only ever increases. So in our little system that means I’ll always end up back like this! The one that… how’d you put it?” She tapped one finger against her lips mockingly, as if she were deep in thought, “Oh! Right! Won’t let myself feel anything other than rage. That’s it,” 

She took a step forward, hooking one finger under his chin and tilting her head, inspecting the lines of his face for a moment. Always the eyes. They’d seen so much more than the rest of him.

She pushed her lower lip into a pout, voice dropping into a purr that dripped venom, “Don’t worry my dear Doctor. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with you! Maybe I’ve always been this way. I certainly wouldn’t know,” She considered for a moment and then added, “But… doesn’t really matter, does it? We’re both stuck with me either way. Tragic, I know. Means you’ve got two choices right now. You can either get used to it and keep all those funny little emotions right here,” She used her free hand to poke one finger in the center of his chest, “Or!” She continued cheerily, a smile taking over her features, “You can show me just how much of a coward you really are and go run along with your lovely little TARDIS and leave me behind so you don’t have to deal with all of this. Again,” She laughed a short sharp little thing and moved her hand to tap his nose.

Taking a step back she raised an eyebrow, “And see how it goes when you have your next little breakdown in front of your perfect little pets instead of me,” She sucked in a sharp breath, but her next words were mocking, regret falsified to make a point, “Oh that was a low blow, wasn’t it? Ouch. Oops,” She shrugged and put her hands on her hips, “Well. The choice is yours! Take all the time you need, I’ve got all the time in the Universe, don't I?” 

_perhaps when we_

_destroy ourselves_

_we just want_

_to be recreated_

_as something different_

**Author's Note:**

> love the subtle sadness and yearning. and also that line of dialogue was IMPORTANT to my heart


End file.
